JacKwonDo, jam, hermit crab drama continues

Ol climbed into bed with me at 4am; 45 minutes later, I realized just how god-forsakenly early it was and returned him to his room. It was at that point that I heard the narrator's voice emanating from Jack's room, deep in the bowels of the Harry Potter #4 book-on-tape. I tiptoed to Jack's door -eager to catch him in the act; last week he lost these CDs for this very reason and had just regained their presence in his room last night- and flung it open. There he sat, simultaneously entranced and gaga with fatigue. Displeased, I grabbed the CDs, ordered him back to bed, and then returned to my own. Something of this nature always happens when Tom is gone. Maybe they don't pull this shit on him. Hmm... in any case, I've felt a bit peaked all day. Yet there was packing to be done, jam to be made, Tae Kwon Do to attend and so forth and so on. Oliver drew pics of girls while I made apricot-peach-almond jam this morning.

As if all lady knowledge coalesced in his mind at precisely the point at which he came across a large sheet of paper, he sketched a new tableau of Princess Leia (smudges on the sides of her head to represent her "cinnamon bun" hair), Padmé (a pinhead-sized dot atop her head signifies a pony tail), and Wonder Woman (always with a tiara on her forehead and golden lasso at her hip). I liked the fence of strong women that resulted! He said I couldn't tell anyone about it. Oops.

My inner voice then suggested that I really might want to get a start on packing because we leave at such a horrid time tomorrow morning, so I headed to J's room to gather his things. What did I spy in the hermit crab tank? A single leg/claw, a bit of aftermath from last week's cannibal murder. Apparently in the days just after the crime, despite the fact that T bought several new shells for Max to consider, he (Max) slunk around his home in the buff. At one point T became a combo of irritated and concerned with the crab's naked body and shoved him into a shell. Max wore it briefly before going nudist again. Then what does he do? He climbed right back in the damn, too-small shell he's had since last December. It seems he ate Yoda for no good reason as Y's shell just sits there, an empty and forlorn reminder of a kinship that is no longer.

Max is on his own now, folks. We are not buying him a new friend, and when he goes, that's it for our life with hermit crabs. Good lord.

My mother-in-law came over to help while I packed, god love her, so I got that taken care of, ran a few errands and dropped dinner off at the Grands (Nanny's chicken salad; caprese salad; chocolate chip cookies; bread and jam for tomorrow). They are moving into an assisted living facility in two weeks, and I will really miss seeing them. Fortunately, their new home is no farther from mine than their current one, so I can still take the boys to visit which will be lovely. Oliver makes them each a card every day that I cook for them, and I know they adore him as he does them. It's been such a lovely, special "job."

By 5p I was dragging arse, but Jack has blue belt testing coming up at Tae Kwon Do so we really needed to get a class in before leaving. MIL stayed with Oliver (what would I do without my MIL?!), and Jack and I boogied to his class. I love the studio- the instructors are so great with kids, so dedicated to teaching them this craft, and J has come to love it. He needs some coordination so this is good for him. And, while the teachers are always kind, they do ignore random verbiage which is a fabulous lesson for J. For example, in the middle of class today, I heard Jack ask, "does anyone know when my birthday was? I'll tell you! Ok? It was July 4." WHA? Why would that have possibly seemed like an opportune time to share that fact? It wasn't, and no one responded. Thank you Tae Kuk.

When these little guys, cute little pencils all of them, don their sparring gear, I can never help but laugh. There is so, so much gear, like a dozen pieces, and though it's lightweight, it looks heavy. They all end up looking like bobbleheads in boot camp. Jack had his purple belt stuck in his jock cup at one point. Hilarious.

Home, shower, bed, more jam. I've just made a wonderful new one: black velvet apricot + pluots + Cognac (friend and fellow canner, Bevi, had the idea of adding Cognac!) + a bit of black pepper. Deeelishuss.

I'm off to make some dinner and then hit the sack in anticipation of my 3:45am wake-up call. To Louisiana we go, and next Tuesday, I return without my little ones! They are staying with my parents for their annual Big Boy Week which is always awesome for everyone involved. I'll be back with you tomorrow.

Today was about three in one

When I went to kiss Jack goodbye before I left this morning, I peered into the hermit crab tank and gasped when I saw what looked like Darth Vader's helmetless head. You know when he takes his helmet off when he's dying at the end and his head is pasty white, bald, veiny and all-around not good-looking? Well, that's basically what appeared to be perched in the water bowl. I scurried in to kiss Tom and whispered that he might seriously examine the crab -ironically named Yoda- when he awoke; perhaps it needed a larger shell?As it turns out, Yoda had been dismembered -cannibalized for chrissakes- by his tank-mate and fellow crab, Max, and T had to dispose of his little claws which were scattered about. He has not informed Jack of this murder. I cannot tell you how grateful I feel not to have had to deal with that today.

Fast forward a bit, and I'm on the plane with an empty seat next to me. And then I was at the start of BlogHer '13's pre-conference day, Pathfinder. I heard a witty, candid interview with Maria Ross, brand-mastress (yes, I know mistress is the feminine, but that sounds so unsavory) extraordinaire, aneurysm survivor, feisty and funny Italiana who's written two books- one business, one post-aneurysm. Here she is with interviewer Lesley Pinckney.

Then it was time to head into our tracks -me, "your blog as a book proposal"- for the first break-out session with the terrifically knowledgeable, utterly approachable team of Melissa Ford and Hannah Kaminsky, both published authors and bloggers. Perhaps forty of us gathered in a small room lined with tables; I felt like a student again, and admittedly felt that small burst of enthusiasm I always feel when I'm wearing that hat. Computers and notebooks were placed at the ready, fingers and pens poised to take notes. And let me tell you, I took some.

The publishing-industrial complex, my term, is dense and pretty flipping scary. In about five minutes, I'd written down three sites I need to scour, advice on writing a query letter, the definition of a query letter, how to reach out to agents, yes, you need an agent, the differences (many) between agents and publishers. And like I said, that was in five minutes.

It was all extremely informative and helpful though, and I could not have enjoyed Melissa and Hannah more. Melissa's irreverent wit was totally engaging, and Hannah is a hell of a photographer in addition to having written FOUR vegan cookbooks while maintaining a beautiful blog.

Oh mon dieu, my little student hat slumped a little, became a bit bashful and intimidated, but then I went through the whole, "E, you are a strong writer with a lot to say, you're enthusiastic and willing to work hard, and gosh darn, people like you." Ok, not that last bit, but you get my drift.

Our lunch break came just at the most-needed moment -our heads spinning, our brains blaring holy shit!- and we headed down to meet up with different track Pathfinders. After a bit of chit-chat, during which time I met two great gals (A and C, I loved meeting you!), we heard from a panel led by Elisa Camahort (one of BlogHer's cofounders; I swear I'd love to work for BlogHer; everyone is smart, sassy, funny, and the signage at the conference is over-the-top awesome; I hate when enormous convention places aren't labeled with helpful directions) and featuring Bryant Terry, an author/chef/activist, and Nataly Kogan, founder and CEO of Happier, Inc. What is happiness? What does it mean to be happy? How do we feel good and do good? I enjoyed this discussion too.

And then back to the Cave o' Publishing for further information and pitch-writing. Suffice it to say that I did not successfully hone a thirty-second pitch, but I've always enjoyed homework so will look at this as thus.

At this juncture, I began to feel tired. Really tired. And so I did the smart thing, called it a good day and returned to my hotel. Because we booked this room using Tom's ridiculously good "status", I received a riDONKulous upgrade to a King Suite which is soo roomy and comfy and nice. The bathtub is a small pool, a fruit plate was waiting, a view of the Chicago skyline loomed. I feel both grateful and deserving of this treat of a room and am now snuggled in some bizarre cheetah-print robe looking forward to some shuteye asap.

I did realize that Frontera Grill was two blocks from my hotel so I scooted out for a prickly pear basil mojito, some snacks and a double flan. Solid.